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to pretend I’m having some sort of breakfast. “This from the girl who fell in love with Blaise Nolan, pussy chaser extraordinaire and top notch fuck up.”
    “Hey!”
    “What? I love the guy, but I’m sayin’...shit could have turned out very differently for you. And no girl in her right mind would have gone into a relationship with him expecting the results you got.” And those results were nothing short of a miracle. I don’t think even Hallmark has managed to put a guy on screen as devoted and loving as Blaise is to my sister.
    “Fine. Neither one of us is in her right mind. I don’t think that helped your argument any though.” She raises her brow at me like she’s waiting for me to have another go at it. But I’m not gonna.
    “Oh, well.” I start to walk out. “Tell Blaise I said thanks for letting me borrow the Yukon again.”
    “Wait. You’re just going to leave?” But she’s not taking any actions to stop me.
    “Yep. See ya.” Then, before she can ask for more specifics, like return time, I hustle to the front door and take off.
    This time, showing up at Angel’s house causes me far less anxiety. Maybe because he sort of invited me today. Or, at the very least agreed to letting me invite myself. Either way, I don’t linger in the car and I don’t go all turtle like, trying to disappear within my own bone structure when he greets me with a hug.
    And, within a matter of minutes, we’re sitting in his Bentley cruising along.
    “So, this is fancy.”
    He grins. “A slight upgrade from the ’93 Honda I had back in high school.”
    “Aw, good ol’ Gert. What ever happened to her?” Gertrude, the bright blue Civic Hatchback, had been Finding Nolan’s main ride back in the day. How in the hell they fit everyone and their instruments in that little thing will remain a mystery until the end of time.
    “I donated her. Women’s shelter. She was still in really great shape, figured someone ought to be getting some use out of her.” He does a half smile where his attention is half on me and half on the road. And my heart gets a sweet, cozy feeling all around it. He donated Gert. To a women’s shelter.
    Why do the good men have to use their powers for getting as much pussy as possible instead of focusing all of their super powers on one woman alone?
    “That’s a really nice thing you did.” Not that he needs me to tell him so. “But, back to the nice thing I’m doing for you.” Because that’s the sort of distraction I need to keep me from getting sucked up in the ‘Angel is so wonderful’ funnel threatening to slurp me up and take me far far away from reason. “Where are we headed to first on our big shopping spree?”
    “You’ll see. We’re about to pull in.”
    Before he even finishes answering, the sign comes into view and he turns into their parking lot, thus officially starting our day of furniture shopping.
    Between sitting on about a hundred different couches, discussing the benefits of a sturdy coffee table (in case you want to take a game of karaoke to the next level and need to use it as a stage) and fighting for thirty minutes about window treatments and whether or not it’s acceptable for a bachelor to have drapes (it’s not, even if Memomma always had them) the day pretty much flies by in a blur, leaving us no choice but to make plans for the following day. And then again the day after that. And so on and so forth. By the end of the week, we’ve actually got a little routine going. I pull up, he comes out, one coffee and one water in each hand. We switch cars. We stop at the French bakery down the street for some tasty pastry (the bats are letting me eat again) and then it’s shop until you drop, at least until lunch.
    Come Friday morning and I’m cruising into Angel’s driveway in Blaise’s Porsche. Apparently, that’s my designated ride this weekend. It’s taking some getting used to from the Yukon he had assigned to me before. I’m not sure if all this car